Weary
by pumpkinlight
Summary: “What are we doing Mels?” his quiet voice trembles. “We shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t have to be.” Matt knows the road they’re walking. He knows the destination. But he just doesn’t know if he can make it. Matt/Mello, quietly.


_A/N: This is set at Christmas time. _

_There's only a little bit of Christmas, but it's there._

_Thanks to my super duo of beta readers; Morgan and Dannie. _

…_I just kind of really wanted to say super duo._

* * *

_**Weary**_

"It's just another day, huh?" Matt whispers as his fingertips brushed the rough material of the apartment curtains. He tugs on them, cold sunlight flooding through as the dark material parted like storm clouds. The landscape outside is swathed in a powdery white blanket. Festive wreaths dangle from streetlamps, swaying in the frigid wind.

Matt's breaths are slow and slightly wheezy; he feels as if his chest has gone rusty and is due to collapse at any time. He falls slowly to his knees; dragging a hand across his face wearily.

_It's Christmas Eve. But it's just another day; nothing special anymore. _

"Maybe even that bastard Kira is having a day off_," _he wonders idly.

"Matt?"

He lifts his head slowly. Mello is leaning against the doorway of the bedroom in dark, pitch pyjamas. He still finds it strange that Mello wears, and even owns pyjamas.

He reaches for the arm of the sofa, grasping the worn leather and pulling himself up.

"Yeah, I know. I'll go start work," he says quietly, shuffling over to collect his laptop and equipment.

Mello raises an eyebrow slightly at his brusque manner, but moves back into the bedroom.

---

Matt finishes setting up the laptop and leans back on his heels, looking over the equipment with somewhat empty satisfaction. He flicks to the camera feed in Amane's apartment. The apartment is empty.

Shifting from his position on the carpeted floor; he pulls his knees towards his chest as his eyes gently slide shut. He doesn't resist as he feels his head dip forward to rest on his knees.

He hears footsteps, and a **click.**

He shivers as the ancient heater hums to life, gasping out chilly air that swirls around his shoulders.

"Matt, "he hears a quiet voice beside him. "Are you alright?"

He moves his head slowly; turning towards Mello who is knelt beside him.

"Mels. I'm so tired. I'm just so tired," he whispers weakly.

"If… you really need to, you could take a nap. I'll watch here for a while," Mello offers, not really sure of what else to do or say.

"No, Mel. That's not it. I'm tired in a way beyond physical measure. I'm tired of Kira. I'm tired of this life of constant hiding."

Mello's silence tells him that he can't find the words to say.

He struggles for his own words, searching.

"…We're walking on a road that only leads to death. Each day is another step closer to the door."

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, knotting the stripy material between pale fingers.

"And there is nothing I can do to stop this. I could work and try till my fingers are nothing but dry bones and this city is void and gone; and that would never be enough, because we don't have that time, for one. And knowing that no matter what I damn do will change the inevitability of this road; it hurts, Mello. It hurts like hell."

He leans back on his hands, wistfully surveying the room.

"You know, I never really thought about home, or about what it was at Wammy's. But I have thought about it now. I thought about during the empty days that have filled the last years of my life. Home is like the place where you feel loved. It's like the place where you can just be _alive._ It's that place and so many other things. What home means is different for each one of us. That's what makes it _your_ home. And _this_," he spat bitterly; gesturing at the shabby apartment they resided in; electronics lying in complicated tangles everywhere, chocolate wrappers and cigarette ash drifting all throughout the chaos.

It was filled with everything they had to their name; but it was _empty._

He dips his head, his choppy fringe shadowing his eyes.

"It's not a home. There's no heart. No warmth. It's cold, dark, and I can't find the light switch."

"What are we doing Mels?" his quiet voice trembles. "We shouldn't be here. We shouldn't have to be."

"**We're walking on the road to the door of death, and I don't know if I can keep going, Mello."**

He reaches out slowly for Mello's hand, gazing up with watery eyes. His voice is cracking with the tears and the fear, and he knows there's nothing he can do about that either.

"You know why I stayed. You know why I'm here right now. It's because there is **nothing else.** I'm holding tight to you like a little child that wants to grow up, but doesn't know how. It hurts so much I want to let go; but I won't. **I **_**can't**__._"

---

_Matt is right. He is. We __**will **__die at the end of this if we keep going._

_And as if I didn't already know that._

_It's a shame that that's how it is._

_Because even if our world ends, and we're gone, others will keep on going and justice will never get to take a break. _

_I would have preferred to stick around a little bit longer, to be here for more of that; with Matt._

_I hadn't seen him for years, after all, before this._

_I probably won't even be able to see him again on the other side._

_There's a gap between us that might never be filled again. And if I'm going to believe what I'd like to; there is a bridge in the middle. And it's not going to break until that one day, when I trip on some goddamn thing that I never anticipated, and he'll go down with me, not just because he's that kind of loyal guy, but because I couldn't let go of him either._

His hair falls over his eyes as he bows his head in silent acknowledgement. He pulls Matt into a hug and Matt bites his lip as tears begin to leak from the corners of his closed eyes.

They hold each other in a tight, desperate embrace; children once more in a world too big, too cruel.

_**And they cry. **_

* * *

Thanks for reading.

:3

* * *


End file.
